


Please Tell Me I'm Being Punked

by Urge



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU, F/F, F/M, Succubi & Incubi, bellarke is endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urge/pseuds/Urge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>* This literally means warrior's spear in Trigedasleng and I couldn't resist using the pun for Java and a coffee shop.</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. in which there is a curse like something out of sailor moon

When Clarke took the job at the old thrift store off of Main Street in Ark, she never expected to be cursed by a book someone brought in for appraisal. In fact, she just thought it would be a good, if sometimes slow, place to work on her portfolio for her college applications over the summer. She never anticipated saying three words in a musty tome would envelop her in Sailor Moon-level transformative spells.

In hindsight, she probably should have been tipped off to the oddness of the situation when she noticed that the lady who sold the book to her had come out of the occultist shop across the alleyway, muttering to herself and casting shifty glances at the cat that was staring at her from the corner. But the thrift store had a lot of weird clientele, from homeless people who couldn't afford anything else to the “quirky xD” preteens that came in with a gaggle of friends to gape at the corsets they kept in the back room. She didn’t think much of the cape - hell, they sold capes. Clarke had bought a cape last month - for a costume, given, but she still bought one. Valentino had a cape in his last collection. Capes were in for fall. So when the woman had handed her a book, said that she wanted it taken off her hands, and gone to browse, Clarke had just shrugged and started paging through the book.

Technically, it was part of her job, but maybe reading handwritten Latin in the margins wasn’t.

Through the technicolor display worthy of a Jem and the Holograms episode, she saw the woman slip through the doorway. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she maybe shouldn’t put this particular book up on display once it stopped flapping its pages and aggressively casting its spell.

 

—

 

So Bellamy probably shouldn’t’ve been napping at six at night over his calculus homework, but it was his only break between school, working as a guide at the art museum, and his late night shift at Gona Java* on Main Street. Over the past few weeks, he had lost the trail of the spellcaster that had been stalking and attacking teenaged girls, which meant that after he went home from the coffee shop, he had to try to use the little divining he could handle to find any residue from the portals that inevitably opened when a demon was summoned. So, if this was his only chance to sleep, really sleep, then he was going to take it.

It was probably only karma that he would get another goddamned prophetic dream. All he could see was flashes of color, swirling around what seemed like a girl, strands of blonde hair whipping in an intangible wind, and hunger. He felt her hunger. It was deep, primal, and insatiable, and he - she - was so confused, so hungry, and -

Octavia burst into their apartment, ripping him out of his dream and far from the confused girl, and also, coincidentally, away from the information he would need to be able to find her. “Bell!” she yelled. He groaned, still hunched over his derivatives, and waved a hand at her. “Wait, were you asleep? Did you see something? Because Raven’s hinting that something big went down at the circle at the occult shop this afternoon, but refuses to tell me anything real. For all I know, something big might just mean that Wick finally got the balls to ask her out. Do you think that’s gonna happen anytime soon? Because all this pining is just-”

“Annoying, I know,” he replied, wiping the sleep out of his eyes, yawning and trying to take in everything O had just thrown at him. “I did see something. Honestly, O, I’m not sure what it was, because someone happened to wake me up during the middle of it.” She stuck out her tongue at him, and he shook his head. “There was a lot of light, and hunger, lots of it. I think the summoner found someone to be the host for some sort of demon - what kind of demons are hungry?”

“Bellamy, shouldn’t you know this? It’s kind of your job,” Octavia replied, looking unconvinced. “And are you sure that’s all you saw?”

“Um, she might have been blonde, but I don’t think that’s going to help us much, considering that Ark City has no shortage of blondes. We do kind of live on the beach. Half of the town is blonde.” He sighed. “I guess this means that we should call Kane, huh?”

 

—

 

Clarke’s eyes fluttered open, and all she registered for the first solid minute of being awake was an overwhelming hunger, deep in her gut. The next thing to ping her brain was that she was slick - so wet that she was worried it would soak through her panties. She sat up from the floor behind the counter, and saw a cat staring down at her from the counter. Colors were swirling around it, blues and purples and every hue in between, forming a kind of aura. She glanced at the goldfish Indra kept next to the register, but the cat seemed utterly unperturbed by the promise of a quick treat. Okay, so maybe not a normal cat. Clarke shakily stood, holding her stomach against the overwhelming pangs of hunger, and reached out her hand to pet it, and try to see if it had a collar on. She paused, staring at her outstretched hand - or more specifically, her fingernails. She always kept them short - paints got stuck in the nailbeds if she didn’t - but suddenly, they were long, so long, and pointier than she ever remembered them being. She held up the other hand, noting that they were identical, and then frantically tried to pry them off. “Someone pranked me, these are fake, these are - ouch!” Blood? Why was she bleeding? And on her lip? She touched her tongue to her teeth - sharp. It was like someone had put knives in her gums.

“Shit, I must look like fucking Riff Raff,” she whispered to herself as she flipped the sign to closed and locked the door. She rushed to the back room, stumbling as she realized that her shoes were gone, and that her clothes were tattered. She threw open the door to one of the changing rooms, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

She was completely unfamiliar with her appearance. Her blonde hair had instantaneously gained at least a foot of length, her eyes were an unsettling lavender, and her teeth resembled those of a jackal. The planes of her face seemed harsher, older, more like those of a half-starved model than the rounded edges she was so accustomed to. Her ears had gained a point, and she realized that her makeup - which she hadn’t even bothered to put on that morning - suddenly resembled that of Jareth from Labyrinth. “What the fuck happened to my eyebrows? This has gotta be the best stage makeup I’ve ever seen. I can’t even see a line.” She ran her fingers over the edges of her jaw, trying to find where the latex ended. “If I’m getting punked, this would be a really great time for Ashton Kutcher to lean over the top of the stall and help me take off this crazy convincing look. I don’t like it. I wanna go back to the normal Clarke, thanks.”

Her breathing started to get shallower, and she kept scrabbling at her face. Through a rip in the gauzy material of her long-sleeved shirt, she noticed that her skin had a stipe on in. She pulled the shirt open, forgoing the buttons - it was already shredded, there was no need to be cautious with a ruined shirt - and saw tattoos running up and down her torso. The torso that had also seemed to get a far fuller figure with a smaller waist than she had had before the book. “Are these - are these fucking runes?!” she screeched at herself. She looked at her legs in the mirror, seeing the same patterns running up her body, completely healed and not moving. The cat from the counter had slipped under the door and had leaped on top of the bench, continuing to stare at her. “Is this your fault?!” she demanded of the cat. She was convinced that it had something to do with her current situation - why else would she be able to see its colors? Who even has a fucking aura in this day and age? - and picked it up beneath its front legs. “Please help me, dude, I’m freaking out.”

 

—

 

Kane sat down heavily on Bellamy’s couch. “So you’re telling me that you have no idea who this girl is, or where she is, just that she’s somewhere, freaking out, and really hungry? Gee, Bellamy, that’s so helpful.”

“She’s blonde, too,” Octavia called from the kitchen. “Do you want any toast, Kane?”

“No thanks,” he sighed. “Bellamy, do you have any idea how many favors I’m gonna have to call in to find this? Do you remember anything else about what happened?”

“I… there were a lot of books around her? That’s it.”  

“Okay, so maybe the library, or a bookstore. That might help for the next hour or so. Octavia, could you ask Raven if she knows of any bookstores that would be small enough that they wouldn’t be full of screaming people jabbering on about a transformation and summoning?”

“Sure,” she replied through a mouthful of jam. “But I know one that might help, actually. It’s where I’ve been hanging out while Raven has her circles. It’s like this super cute thrift shop that has books on the first floor. Barely anyone is there on a Thursday night.”

Bellamy took that as his cue, standing and clapping his hands together. “Lead the way, O. It’s better than nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This literally means warrior's spear in Trigedasleng and I couldn't resist using the pun for Java and a coffee shop.


	2. in which Clarke realizes that this is not a drill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke meet. Clarke is awkward at flirting.

Clarke felt that she was justified in sitting in the fitting room, holding the still remarkably calm cat, and refusing to move. She was the only one on the schedule for Thursdays after two, so it wasn’t like a coworker was going to find her. This was just her fifteen minute break, right? Sure. Nothing was wrong. She hadn’t done anything weird, like curse herself and grow teeth and nails and tattoos. What was her mom gonna say? The summer was on its way out, but she was wearing a skirt, and how was she supposed to completely avoid the pool for the indefinite future? The pool was a constant fixture in her life! Her dad would probably just laugh at Clarke if she told him this story, if she could figure out how to frame it, but her mom would put her in an institution. She’d be locked up indefinitely while they tried to figure out what had happened. She didn’t want to spend her life at Area 51, she wanted to make out with boys. And girls. She thought. She hadn’t yet had a chance to work that one out, but she definitely appreciated both genders. She wouldn’t be able to figure that out if she was locked up. And she was so hungry, like her stomach was about to cave in on itself, and she felt this deep, throbbing pulse that she couldn’t ignore. What was she going to do?

 

—

 

Octavia bounced out of Kane’s car, pointing towards the storefront. “Raven said she’d meet us right out here, the circle meets right across the alley - right there!” The door to the occult shop opened, and out came Raven, chestnut hair falling free from its braid.

“Has anyone seen Murphy? He disappeared halfway through our meeting, and I haven’t seen him since,” she asked, checking her watch.

“Raven, dude, we just got here. Why would we know where your weird-ass familiar is? He only likes Bellamy anyways, and he was taking a power nap before I got to our apartment.”

“Whatever, he’ll show up sooner or later. So the shop is right there, obviously, but usually it doesn’t close until eight in the summers. I guess something’s up with Clarke? She’s never been one to shirk her work.” Raven paused, then snickered. “Shirk. Work. Rhymes.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, then strode towards the front door, rattling it in its frame. “Locked. Well, nothing to it but to try some good old fashioned breaking and entering.”

Kane shook his head. “I refuse to be party to this. I’ll be in Lincoln’s bakery. Call me if you need me.” Octavia perked up at the mention of Lincoln’s name. “I assume you’ll be coming with me, Octavia?”

She grinned at Kane, then turned to her brother. “I’ll get you those macaroons you pretend you don’t love so you can have some later tonight, Bell. See you!”

Bellamy waved over his shoulder to the receding back of his sister, preoccupied with picking the lock. Raven leaned against the doorframe, staring at him. “Bellamy, you know I could just unlock it using a charm, right?” He ignored her. “My method leaves less of a trace.” He paused and looked up at her, taking in her smug smirk and quirked eyebrow. “Wanna let me take a hack at it?”

“Fine,” he sighed, pushing back off his knees. “Just - don’t make the door come alive this time. It was hard enough explaining to Ms. Murtry where her door had gone, let alone convincing the door to stay on its hinges long enough to unhex it.”

 

—

 

Clarke heard the rattling of the front door. “Kitty, I think someone is trying to get into the store. Do you think it’s that lady?” The cat yawned in response. “That’s all you’ve got? A yawn? Really? Someone could be coming to skin you, you’ll have to protect yourself.” A blink from the cat. “You’re really reminding me of a classmate right now. His name is Murphy, and he’s a complete asshole. Do you realize that you’re reminding me of a complete asshole right now? This isn’t the best first impression.”

She paused, noticing that the rattling had stopped, and that it had gone quiet - almost suspiciously so. She opened the changing room door, and leaned her head out of the room. She stared at the door, wondering what was happening, when -

The glass shattered. She shrieked, and ducked back into the room, relocking the door and holding the cat even closer to her body. “Why is this happening to meeeee,” she mouthed. “This is so not in my job description.” Footsteps neared the door. What was she going to do? She didn’t have any tai chi skills. She inwardly cursed herself for being sick during the week they offered self-defense courses at the Y. A customer - was her name Olivia? - had suggested it to her, but she hadn’t been able to go, and all of her life had been leading up to this moment where she was going to be murdered for opening a cursed book and she couldn’t even fight back.

“Clarke? You in there?” a female voice called. “We’re not gonna hurt you, we just need to talk to you.”

“How do you know my name?” she whispered, pressed against the opposite wall of the changing booth.

“Clarke, we go to high school together. My name is Raven. I work across the street. I heard the glass break and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The heat in her belly was back, low and throbbing and insatiable. “I’m not feeling so great, actually,” she murmured, eyes fixing on the dull red aura floating over the top and bottom of the stall door. “I think something might have happened to me. You said you work in the shop across the street? The occult shop? Do you think you’d be able to help me out?”

“Of course, Clarke. I just need you to open the door.”

Clarke set the cat down, scritching it behind the ears, and straightened out. Her entire body felt like it was on fire. She stepped towards the door, pulling off her ruined blouse, stripping down to the white bustier she had put on that morning. “Okay, I’m coming out then.” Slowly, so slowly, she unlocked the door, taloned fingers lingering over the doorknob and dragging it open. “Hi,” she murmured, staring at the girl - Raven - drinking in the red aura she emitted. “How have we never met before?”

 

—

 

Bellamy stared at the half-naked girl that walked out of the dressing room. This was the Clarke his sister was talking about? Sweet, innocent Clarke? This girl was built like a pinup and had the tattoos of a biker. But something was off - she seemed off-kilter. She smiled at Raven through half-lidded eyes, mouth opening a little wider, flashing a fang - fang?!

Bellamy reached forward and dragged Raven back by the neck of her shirt. “Nope. Not happening. You’re so not gonna suck the life out of her, not today, no how,” he growled at the succubus. “Who summoned you? How did you get past the wards I set?”

“Summoned me? What’re you talking about? I’ve literally lived here my entire life,” she retorted, looking confused. “I don’t feel good,” she muttered, slumping slightly, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Raven, can you help me? This lady - she came in with this weird book. I read this incantation, I guess, and then I was surrounded in lights. And - and now you look really red? And he looks - green? Like a really pretty green, though. Pretty like his eyes.” She paused, and blushed. “Shit.”

“Well, princess, forgive me, but I don’t believe you worth shit.”

“But - the book - it’s right there. The cat - the cat is sitting on it.” Clarke stumbled over, clutching her stomach again. The hunger had returned.

“Murphy!” Raven exclaimed, rushing over to the skinny tomcat. “This is where you’ve been, huh? Comforting distraught girls?”

The cat leapt off the book, and sauntered into the shelves. Instead of the cat emerging, however, a tall man with a large nose came out. “Well, why wouldn’t I? You told me to keep an eye on Anya. This is where she came. And apparently, it was a good thing I was here, considering that the girl has practically come into her own as a fully-functioning succubus.”

“Wait - Murphy?” Clarke asked. “We - shit. I called you an asshole to your face.” She put her head on the counter. “Twice. What’s happening?”

Murphy snickered. “Well, it seems you’ve been having an existential crisis because you decided to read a summoning spell aloud from a suspicious book. Accurate?”

“I’ve decided that you definitely deserve to get called an asshole to your face and I’m taking back whatever apology I was thinking about,” Clarke said to him, muffled against the countertop and her arms. “But yes. Accurate. Please help me, everything hurts.”

“Everything?” Bellamy said, stepping forward minutely. “Those tattoos probably hurt a bunch, huh?”

“What? No. Those didn’t hurt - it’s just that I’m so hungry.” She looked up. Green aura. So so so green. She felt a pulse behind her navel. “Why does everything keep throbbing?” she wondered aloud, subconsciously licking her lips and biting the lower one. “Why can I see colors around people? And cats. Mainly Murphy.”

Murphy and Raven looked at each other warily. “This sounds like that dude we dealt with in Arizona,” Murphy said slowly. “Do you remember what we had to do?”

"No way, that guy brought it on himself. He wanted to become that - that thing - and he had no desire to tamp it down. Or protect anyone. I don’t even think she has any idea what she is.”

“What I am? I’m human, right?” Clarke glanced down at her fingers. “Or… I was…”

“Not anymore, princess,” Bellamy said, looking down at the book and the spell she had read. “I think you’ve been turned into a succubus.”

Clarke’s head shot up. What the fuck? That was ridiculous. Her, a succubus? “Me, a succubus? I’ve never even kissed anyone other than Wells before, and that was when we were ten and wanted to get it out of the way.” Her hands fluttered around her midsection. “I mean - don’t they have to have sex to live? I can’t - for fuck’s sake, I’m a complete virgin. Where would I even start with that?” She stared at Bellamy. His aura pulsed, and her mouth watered. She laughed mirthlessly. “Am I just supposed to go up to Raven and stick her with my back pickup lines?”

“Technically, Clarke, you’d probably just have to walk up to someone at this point to get them to sleep with you. You’re showing off a bit more than I think you were when you came in to this morning.” Raven smiled. “But I don’t swing that way. I’m pretty solidly attached to my boyfriend.”

“By solidly attached, she means she follows him around like a puppy while he flirts with everything that has legs,” Murphy drawled, leaning up against the book stacks. “Don’t look at me like that Raven, I know what he does, even if you want to deny it.”

“Whatever. I’m pretty much straight.”

“So what’s the procedure here? You two - three - seem to know a lot more about this whole situation than I do. Why? And how can I fix this?”

Bellamy glanced up from the ancient tome he held. “Well, I’m trying to find a way to reverse this, but so far, I’m out of luck, plus it’s technically in ancient Greek, so I’m having to translate it as I go. I might be missing things.” He looked at Clarke, who was starting to look a little pale. “Princess, you all right over there?”

She blinked, slowly, staring at him. “I think I’d be better you were holding me up against this counter.” She blanched. “Fuck, what?”

“Aaaaand that would be the succubus nature coming out. It’s self-preservation at this point - you said you were a virgin? You don’t have any sort of life force to live off of right now. What we need to do is teach you how to seduce people,” Raven practically cackled, glancing between Bellamy’s darkened eyes and blown pupils and Clarke’s come-hither look. “Murphy and I are gonna go try to figure out where Anya went. Bellamy, you get to teach her how to flirt and not be embarrassed about it.”

“What?” they chorused, turning towards the door as Raven jumped through the broken glass. “Can you at least fix the door?” Clarke called to her. Raven wiggled her fingers over her shoulder and the glass jumped back into its frame, intact but with a curious shatter pattern. “Now what?” she asked Bellamy.

“I guess I teach you how to flirt.”


	3. in which bellamy has bad plans for flirting

“Wait, she was serious about that?” Clarke said, pressing the heel of her palm to her eyelids. “Why do I have to learn how to flirt? Isn't that what this nature is for? Shouldn’t I just… know how?”

“Well, princess, you seem to know the basics, but you keep getting embarrassed every time something even slightly seductive comes out of your mouth, which is a problem. Also, you’re a virgin - I hope you don’t have any hangups about that, by the way, because you’re gonna have to ignore them to survive.” Bellamy sighed, and looked at his watch. “I should probably call in to Gona Java to tell them I won’t be making my shift tonight. Can you hang tight for five minutes? I’m gonna have to come up with a stellar excuse.”

Clarke nodded, ignoring the intensifying throbbing in her lower belly. She stood and walked over to the door to the shop, unlocking it and staring out the window. Someone was coming closer to the storefront - two people, in fact, a man and a woman. She turned her head to the side. The woman had an aura with a similar intensity as Bellamy’s – maybe they were related? But the man – the man had no aura, none at all. It was the oddest thing she had seen since – well, since she had looked at herself that afternoon. She looked over her shoulder at Bellamy, who was still talking to his boss. She decided that she could deal with these two people – if they were here to hurt her, well. She had fangs and claws now. They had to be good for something other than hickies and scratches.

She unlocked the door, preparing herself to step out towards the two. The girl didn’t intimidate her – she bounced as she walked, and seemed generally unthreatening, but the man was a different story. He radiated an overwhelming sense of power in place of an aura, and it was getting stronger as he walked towards her. “Something I can do for you? I was just about to close up,” she called to them. The girl paused, but the man kept walking, reaching under his coat. “Sir, technically, I need to close the store. Could this wait?”

“Highly doubtful, demon,” the man remarked casually, pulling out a scimitar from under his cloak like it was something normal to carry. The runes etched on the side glowed with an ominous black vibration.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but do you have a concealed carry permit?” she said, inching back towards the door, hoping that he wouldn’t try to fight her. The runes were something she hadn’t seen before, but she knew how badly a blade could hurt – an ill-advised experiment with cutting and stretching her own canvas her sophomore year had taught her how long it took to heal from a cut that went against the suture lines. “I can’t let you into the store – you know, bad for business to have all of my stock ripped up by a deadly sharp blade, and all.”

“Kane!” Bellamy yelled from right over her shoulder, spooking her. She whirled, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in front of her. “Kane, she’s fine. She’s been possessed, but she’s fine.” Clarke was getting hot again – she was so close to Bellamy, and his back was so solid through his thin tee. She released the fabric she had gripped and slid her hands down his sides, fingers fluttering, testing. Bellamy wordlessly reached around and held her wandering appendages steady. She responded by plastering her palms to his abdomen, digging in her nails just the tiniest bit. “For the love of God, Kane. Put the machete away.”

“It’s a scimitar,” Kane muttered, looking put off and wary, stowing the blade from wherever he had drawn it from. “And how do we know we can trust her?”

“Well, Kane, she’s in my history class – thanks for getting me put in an AP, Bell, by the way – and she’s like… basically the nicest girl ever. I don’t know how she got possessed, but it’s weird.” The girl turned to Clarke. “Do you remember me?”

Clarke turned her head to the side. “Octavia? Why do you know so much about… well, me?”

“Funny story, that,” Octavia said, staring at Bellamy. “It’s Bell’s job to talk about that, though, not mine, so I’ll let him explain.”

Bellamy sighed. “Long story short, vampires and demons and all that random weird occult shit is real. My job is to make sure that the people of beautiful Ark don’t know that, and that they don’t get caught in the crossfire.” He paused. “Obviously, you got caught in the crossfire pretty hard.” He looked at Clarke. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Anya’s kind of a free agent, and I don’t think she really wanted anyone to get hurt, but I think she just wanted that book off her hands. I don’t know how she got it – it doesn’t seem like something she’d want.”

Kane looked at the book, currently sitting on the counter. “How could this girl cast a spell, though? It isn’t like she had to set up any sort of schematic for it. She just said the words and it happened.”

“Maybe she’s got a little magic inherent herself,” Octavia suggested from upstairs, where she was leafing through the clothes on the racks. “Clarke, do you mind if I try some of this on?”

“Go ahead,” Clarke called weakly. “You think I have magic? I literally haven’t heard about any of this – like, ever. But I guess – I guess that it’s possible that my mom wouldn’t have told me if Dad was – had magic?” She shook her head. “This is heavy, man.” Her stomach growled. “And I’m still so hungry.”

Kane’s eyes flicked between Clarke, the book, and Bellamy. “Bellamy, are you telling me that this succubus-”

“GIRL!” Octavia yelled from the changing room.

Kane sighed. “This girl has yet to feed after being changed? How are you going to control this?”

“Oh, and you haven’t even heard the best part yet. She’s a virgin.”

“A virginal succubus? Now that’s something that I never thought I’d hear.” Kane fixed Clarke with a stare. “Then how do you plan to feed?” he asked her, deadpan.

“Feed?” she asked, turning her head. “I was planning on getting takeout tonight, my mom is pulling a double at the hospital…”

Kane turned to Bellamy. “You mean to tell me that you’ve told her nothing about her new condition?”

He flushed. “Well, Raven told her that she needed to learn how to seduce people, and that it was my job. But other than that – no. I’ve been somewhat busy, trying to cancel my shift at the coffee shop, and also trying to make sure that Clarke didn’t accidentally kill anyone. She was working at Raven earlier.” He looked at Clarke. “Are you gay? No offense, I just need to know what my playing field is going to look like.”

Clarke shook her head slowly. “I think I’m bisexual, but again, not too much personal experience.”

Bellamy exhaled. “Technically I guess that makes this job easier.”

“Bellamy, you can’t possibly be thinking about letting her loose to feed on the people of this town!”

“And what if I am, Kane? There are records of succubae and incubi successfully living for hundreds of years in one town, never killing, just drawing enough from the pleasure their partner gets to stay alive and sated. They’re usually know as a really good line of prostitutes, but you of all people should remember what you taught me: always look deeper.”

“So you’re saying that you’re going to teach her how to do that? And who do you suggest we give her to practice on? Remember, they’re going to need a stronger life force than a regular human. Do you know any kinds of metahumans or assorted fae in this town? Because I know I don’t.”

Bellamy paused. “Technically… I am half-fae. I guess if worst comes to worst…?”

“Bellamy, that’s too dangerous. What happens if she loses control? You’re here to protect us from the Hellsmouth. You can’t risk being out of commission.” Kane shook his head. “Not an option.”  
“It’s our only option, Kane! How the hell can we get away with killing the chief of surgery at Ark’s only hospital?! Not to mention the fact that she’s valedictorian of her class, and best friends with the Mayor’s son! People will notice! Shit, a blind man would notice!” By this point, the two were yelling at each other, nose to nose. Octavia was staring down at them from the landing on the stairs, and Clarke was frozen in her seat.

Quietly, Clarke whispered, “You were going to kill me?”

Bellamy turned to her. “No. That’s not happening.”

“It’s not happening only if no one gets hurt, Bellamy. Remember that.” With that, Kane turned on his heel and stalked out of the door.

Octavia started back down the stairs, clenching two dresses and a shirt in her fist, and placed them onto the counter. “Can I buy these now?” she asked, effectively breaking the tension and putting Clarke back into the right frame of mind. Clarke nodded, and silently started checking her out.

Bellamy approaching the counter, tentatively, like he was unsure if she’d shy away or lash out at him. “I’m not gonna let him kill you, Clarke.”  
“How did you know all those things about me?” she whispered.

“Princess, you’re nearly royalty in our high school. You’re almost a shoo-in for homecoming queen, and classes haven’t even started yet. I’ve been in the same English class as you for four years running. How could I not notice you?”

She paused, and looked Bellamy straight in the eye. “That’s kind of weird, Bellamy. Next time, just introduce yourself.” She offered him a small smile, then turned back to Octavia. “That’s thirty-two sixty-nine. Cash or credit?”


	4. in which Clarke can't stop thinking of abs

“Bell, did you really mean that about being half-fae? Am I, too?” Octavia asked, looking positively giddy. “Because if I’m kin to fairies that definitely makes me the coolest kid in my grade.”

Bellamy sighed. “Yeah, O. Mom was fae. She just… she stayed too long here. The iron and salt and all of that got to her. Reduced her life span. She wasn’t making the best of choices either, and ended up losing most of her magic. She was still really good with a needle when she died, but… she had made a lot of enemies during her time in the Underground. She was poisoned. I didn’t want to tell you, and it looked like liver failure to the doctors, and I couldn’t tell them anything else so I guess… here we are. And Kane adopted us, and we’re safe, and together. Please don’t hate me,” he finished lamely, staring beseechingly at his sister.

Octavia’s face had gotten colder and more withdrawn as he had continued his story. “Why wouldn’t you tell me, Bell?” she finally said.

“Because we didn’t know about the Hellsmouth, we didn’t know that anything like us would ever show up, we didn’t know that you and I would ever exhibit signs. It’s only after I was chosen that I started presenting. I don’t know if you will. Mom told me that she was half-fae when she was dying. I’m sorry.”

Octavia stared at him, stony-faced. “I want to start training with Kane, too. See if I can draw out my powers.”

Bellamy nodded reluctantly. “That’s fair.” He then turned to Clarke. “So what should we do with you? Your mom may be pulling a double, but you can’t avoid her forever, and if you take even a step onto Main looking like that, you’ll be reported back to her and possibly the police in less than five minutes. He glanced at Octavia. “I’m gonna cast a glamour. I’ll tell you how if you want?”

Octavia nodded, stepping forward, staring intently at his hands. He chuckled. “I don’t do much with my hands. I just put them over her eyes, O. It’s mainly incantations.”  
She flushed, and nodded again. “You can’t expect me to know this stuff, Bell, I didn’t even know I could do this until around five minutes ago, remember?”

Bellamy grinned at her, and leaned across the counter to place his hands over Clarke’s eyes. “Trust me on this, okay?” he asked quietly, waiting for her answering nod. When it came, albeit tentatively, he started chanting lowly. Octavia leaned in to better hear him, keeping her eyes fixed on Clarke. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, temporarily blinding her, and she shielded her eyes. When she could see again, Bellamy was slowly removing his palms from Clarke’s face, and all of her tattoos and teeth and nails were gone. The sharp edges were still present, and the grace and power that Clarke had obtained in her transformation remained, but overall, she looked like Clarke. Clarke, but enhanced, sharpened – like someone had used Photoshop on her, airbrushing her features until she seemed unreal. “Now you can walk out and not look like something out of a tattoo parlor. Except, well. Maybe you should change shirts. And skirts. They’re kind of, um,” he paused to cough, and continued in a deeper voice, “kind of not intact at all and we’re seeing a lot of you.”

Clarke looked down, and sure enough, her skirt was beyond torn and her bustier was doing a bustier’s job: covering her breasts and not much else. She flushed. “Good point. I’ll just be upstairs.”  
She started up the stairs, and Octavia rounded on her brother. “You’ve been in the same English class as the girl you’ve been majorly crushing on since we moved here from the city with Kane when you were twelve and I was eleven and you never said anything to her?!” she hissed. “That’s ridiculous! She digs you! You dig her! This could have been such a good thing!” She whacked him on the shoulder. “Do something about this situation! How did you not know it was the same Clarke that worked here?!”

Bellamy shied away from her next strike. “She doesn’t actually like me, O, that’s the spell. It’s in her nature to want me. She wants everything that moves with a human figure. She’s just as much into me as she is into Wells Jaha, who she isn’t, thanks. And I just didn’t put two and two together, I guess I was hoping for better news.”

Octavia paused. “Did she come on to Raven like she was coming on to you?”

He shook his head. “She just said things in that voice. She didn’t actively come on to her.”

“But she did to you?”

“Um… she asked me to hold her up against the counter before her brain caught up to her mouth.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up, Octavia.”

 

\--

 

Clarke was frantically going through the racks upstairs for something that would reach halfway down her torso and wasn’t pleather. “Since when did we have all of this weird-ass bondage gear? I don’t remember processing this! Echo knows we’re not supposed to take costume stuff unless it’s October!” She groaned, holding her head in her hands. Downstairs, she had one very hot boy who she apparently has had in her English classes her entire high school and part of her middle school career, and his sister. It wasn’t right to just launch yourself at a girl’s brother while said girl was in the room. Not polite – but god, she was so hungry, and Bellamy himself had said that he could help her and not… well, not die. And he was so hot. Raven was hot, but Bellamy was on another plane. A guy’s plane of abs. A not taken guy plane. She could get on the mile-high club on that plane. She could feel herself growing hotter and wetter the more she thought about him. She had some time, right? She could –

No. She had to get clothes and get home and get to the vibrator she hid from her mother in the ceiling. She couldn’t do this in her place of work. She grabbed a crop top and some high-waisted jeans off of the rack and pulled them over her ruined clothes, not bothering with the changing room. Everyone currently in the store had seen everything she had to offer, anyway.  
She started down the stairs, calling out that she was ready and decent to her two… saviors? Captors? Keepers? Whatever. Bellamy was staring at her, and she rubbed her hand over her head. “What? Still too much?” Bellamy’s mouth opened, then closed, and he swallowed noticeably.

Octavia spoke for her brother. “It’s great. Perfect amount of raw sex appeal while still being PG enough for the tastes of the lovely if oddly conservative folks of Ark. Bellamy’s just probably trying to shut off the big brother gene that is telling him to tell you to ‘go back upstairs and put on a muumuu young lady!’”

Clarke laughed. “Did he actually tell you that?”

“Only one time, when it was Halloween and I was fifteen and walked into the kitchen wearing a leather Catwoman suit. The zipper wasn’t probably done enough. It was by the time I walked out, that’s for sure.”

“Shut up, Octavia,” Bellamy growled. She laughed, but relented. “You look fine, Clarke. Do you want O and me to walk you home?”

“Actually,” Octavia interjected, “O has a date with a certain baker tonight.”

“What?!

“He’s only like four years older than me, Bell, don’t have a hissy.”

“You’re seventeen!”

“It’s just a date, Bell. Take it down like seven notches.”

Clarke reached over and gently touched his arm. A low electrical hum ran through her hand, and she shivered. “It’s okay, Bellamy. I know Lincoln. He’s basically a huge teddy bear that brings me sandwiches when I’m working because he’s worried I won’t eat.” She gave him a small smile. “You can trust him.”

Bellamy tore his eyes from where they were riveted to her hand on his arm, and looked at her. “Okay,” he said, a little strangled, then cleared his throat. “Do you want me to walk you home, then?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”


	5. in which bellamy cooks

After seeing Octavia back to the bakery and leveling Lincoln with a glare that could melt steel, he and Clarke started back to her house. It was a warm night, the September air still holding onto the vestiges of summer and evading the cold breeze that the northern Pacific tended bring in. Bellamy and Clarke walked in silence for a time, closely enough that they brushed shoulders whenever they were in tandem. Clarke finally cleared her throat, unwilling to allow her questions to go unanswered while she still had the chance.

“Bellamy, what’s gonna happen to me? Is there any way this can be fixed?”

He sighed, craning his neck to look up at the rising moon. “It’s hard to say. It’s possible that we can fix it, but it’s been a while since I’ve had to deal with an incubus, or succubus. Even then, it’s always a full demon – never a possession, which is what I think you’re dealing with. The spell is a summoning to a vessel, like some sort of golem that would take life once it was properly enchanted, and since you said it without setting up the proper symbols and chalk circles that would have directed the demon, it went straight to the first thing it could find. As you weren’t protected, as Kane thinks that Anya was, it found you.” He grinned mirthlessly. “What drove you to read an incantation in another language in a suspect book, anyway?”

Clarke exhaled heavily. “I’m not entirely sure. It felt like a compulsion – like I had to know what it would do. With all the crazy shit that’s gone down today, it wouldn’t surprise me if there were some sort of latent enchantment on the book, or at least on that spell, to get people to read it. Is that outside of the realm of possibility?” She looked up at Bellamy, expectant, as he considered her question and finally shook his head. “Then that’s my theory, at least.”

“It’s plausible at this point. Maybe tomorrow Raven’ll have found Anya and we can get some actual, legitimate information out of her. Which way’s your house, again? I don’t usually head into the gated part of town.”

Clarke shrugged. “It’s not actually gated, you know. It’s just over a little farther north of the city center, so it’s not central.”

Bellamy stared at her. “Yeahhhh,” he drawled. “I know that it’s not actually gated, but that doesn’t mean that whenever I show up down there, I don’t get stares from literally every other house.”

Clarke glanced at him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be. That’s life, and you’re not one of the people staring, so it doesn’t matter to me.”

“If I were staring, would it matter? To you?”

“Probably.”

“What if I were staring for a different reason?”

He started at the deeper timbre of her voice, and turned to look at her. She had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and was tugging on one of her platinum curls. It reflected the moon like a silver thread, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the play of her fingers. He inhaled as she took a step closer to him, halving the distance between their bodies. “What – what do you mean?” he murmured, voice breathier than he would have liked.

“You’re certainly worth looking at, Bellamy Blake, you must know that.”

“Clarke, we’re – we’re in public, this isn’t you, we can’t-”

She latched on to his forearm, fingers holding him in a way that he was sure he’d be unable to escape. “Is that the only problem?” she breathed, tugging him closer. “Because my house is only five minutes away if we’re walking slowly. Less time if we run.” She grinned, sharp teeth showing through her glamour. “Let’s go, Bell.”

He shivered at her casual use of his nickname. He may have had a crush on sweet, innocent Clarke since first butting heads with her in a shared history seminar, before he moved on to APs, but this was another level that he wasn’t entirely prepared for. She radiated a suffocating sensuality, pushing her way closer to the dam that he had placed over his libido to protect both of them. If he wasn’t careful, she’d destroy both of them. Teaching her how to flirt was maybe one of the worst possible ideas they could have hit upon, but it was likely the only one that would work in the short term. She needed to learn how to only take what she needed, and if she continued on like this, she might take all that was offered, knowingly or not. He started with a brisk walk to her house, thinking his best cold shower thoughts, and hoping that it would be enough.

 

\--

 

When Bellamy started walking, Clarke was tugged from her blurred state. She flushed a deep red, knowing that she had gone too far for barely knowing him, and she was worried that she made him uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she said, in a voice barely over a whisper. “I know that probably freaked you out. I’m freaked out. I didn’t know I could do this, I barely know how to kiss someone, and here I am, just-” She exhaled loudly. “I don’t know what to do with this. It’s like it’s another part of me.”

“Technically, it is another part of you. The problem you seem to have is that you don’t know how hard to flirt. You go full force – which, believe me, is effective as hell, but you don’t need that to survive. You just need probably to make out with a few people per week to keep up your energy. I think that this side – the demon – comes out when it’s hungry and senses that you have an opportunity.” He glanced over his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Clarke. This isn’t the end of the world.”

Clarke pushed the heel of her hand into her eyes. “Thanks for being here for me, Bellamy. I know you don’t really know me and this was a huge leap of faith for you, from what I gathered from Kane’s insistence that you should simply dispose of me while you had the chance.”

They continued on quietly for a few minutes, and finally reached Clarke’s house. She pulled the key out of her art bag, and turned it in the lock, listening for its telltale thunk. “I’m in,” she said, as she always did, and jumped when Bellamy chuckled.

“Is that your best hacker voice?” he asked, suppressing his laughs.

“Well, I don’t think you could do much better, Blake,” she huffed, opening the door and slinging her bag down at the side of the entry hall. She walked through the hallway, pointing to her left and right to illustrate the phrases that she was reciting by memory. “Bathroom’s there, kitchen’s to the left, help yourself to anything except the protein powder, that’s my mom’s and she gets mad whenever someone uses it. Or touches it. She’s weird about it.” She stopped at the foot of the stairs. “The living room is there, to the right and through the big arch, and the bedrooms are upstairs. We have a back porch, if you feel like going outside, and a yard, but the end of the yard is the bluff, so don’t run towards it or do anything stupid. I’m gonna go upstairs and change into something a little less not mine, so just… hang out, I guess?”

Bellamy nodded, eyes roving across the photos that lined the walls. A good number of them were Clarke holding various awards, looking bored in some and enthused in others. Most of the ones where she looked happy had a taller, sandy-blonde man kneeling or standing beside her, but he seemed to disappear when Clarke looked about fifteen. He paused, thinking back to what might have happened to him. An event struck in his mind – Clarke’s mother and father had gotten a divorce their sophomore year, after Abby had taken a role on the town council on top of her job as head surgeon at Ark Hospital. There had been one explosive fight at a formal function for the hospital, where Abby had confronted Jake about getting contacted by different engineering firms in San Francisco to work for them. Jake had blown up at her, telling her that she had barely been present in his or Clarke’s lives for the past several years, and that he was planning on taking Clarke with him to San Francisco if he got the job he was hoping for.

Needless to say, Abby had not been happy.

She had connections everywhere, and getting a sympathetic judge wasn’t a difficult task for the custody hearing. It was whispered around town that Abby had deliberately gotten custody of Clarke to spite her ex-husband, and it had a root in the truth – since Jake had left, Abby had spent more and more time away from home and left Clarke with weighty expectations and little support. Clarke only got to see her father for a month in the summer and during Christmas break – not exactly a fair setup, but how was Jake going to fight it? He was simply glad that the judge had given him, a father with a new job in an unfamiliar city, some custody. With Abby’s connections, it was a miracle that he had gotten any time with his daughter at all.  
So Clarke was left alone in a mansion that could have easily housed twelve, alone, almost all the time. When her mother was home, she was working, or she was asleep. It was a lonely life that she led.

Once the pictures of her father stopped, Clarke started looking less and less alive in each of the photos of her accomplishments. Pictures of Abby started to frequent the walls more – a picture of her getting an award at a conference, pictures of her giving speeches, her accomplishments overpowering the small presence Jake had left behind. Bellamy wondered who had put the photos up – Abby was an ambitious woman, but she didn’t seem outwardly vain. Clarke must have put them up – Abby was her mother, and even if she was lonely, she still loved her. He sighed, scratching a hand through his curls. “This sucks, all around, but at least Abby won’t be around to notice the change in her daughter,” he muttered.

 

\--

 

Clarke was in her room, trying to find her comfiest pair of sweats and coziest sleep shirt. Abby liked the house cold when she came home, so Clarke left the air conditioning on downstairs and in Abby’s wing of the house at all times, apologizing for the contribution to global warming that she caused, and glad that Jake had convinced Abby to install solar panels and a solar water heater before the divorce. This left downstairs ice cold, with polished granite floors in the kitchen and hardwood in the living room, with no carpets anywhere to absorb the noise that bounced through the empty rooms. Whenever she was downstairs, she wore sweats over her actual sleep ensemble. Once she twirled her now exceedingly long hair into a sloppy bun on top of her head, she started back down the stairs. She found Bellamy in the kitchen, looking through her fridge. “Do you mind if I make some food, Princess?”

She bristled slightly. “I really don’t like that nickname.”

“Why not? It really fits now,” he said, straightening and fixing her with a look. “Long blonde hair, mansion, a curse, and now, a knight in somewhat bloodied armor.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, you’re definitely a knight. So noble, so brave.”

He grinned back at her. “So I take it that you won’t care if I cook up some grub, then?”

She shrugged. “Make whatever. We have really weird stuff, though. I’m not exactly sure what you could make.”

“Well, you have miso, pre-cooked pork, some eggs, fancy noodles, and green onions, plus some tofu and dried seaweed. Did your mom go through some sort of Asian food craze recently?” When all he got was a blank look, he continued on. “Those are basically all the recipes I need to make some ramen. But like – good ramen, not that bullshit Machuren stuff. Or I could make a simple miso soup if you’re not feeling all that food.”

“No, I’m hungry,” she said, stomach taking that moment to punctuate her statement with a loud grumble.

His face twisted into a smirk. “I can tell. Sit back and watch the master at work.”


	6. miso-flavored kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Bellamy discovers that the best way into Clarke's pants is through her stomach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I maybe forgot to write this for a while hi guys

Soon, the kitchen was filled with the warm smells of salty meat wafting through the air. “Just to warn you, your hair will probably smell like miso for a day. It’s not exactly the least fragrant of soups.”

She smiled. “It’s fine. Not like I have anyone close enough to smell my hair anyways,” she shrugged, gathering bowls and silverware as he had directed her. They had found some rice upon second inspection, and she was currently boiling that to make some rice balls – onigiri, Bellamy had said. He refused to tell her why he knew how to make Japanese foods, but obviously knew them past a beginner level – he was practically making Clarke into his sous chef, and never once stopped to check a recipe.

“Well, that’ll probably change within the next few days. This food will make your human side feel sated, but the other part of you… um, it needs a different kind of sustenance.” He winced. “We’ll have to take care of that so you don’t go prostitute berserker on the first dude who smells like arousal at school.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, frozen with oven mitts on her hands. “That could happen?” she whispered, sounding sufficiently terrified at the thought of attacking a classmate.

Bellamy looked away from the tofu he was cubing to glance at her, and paled. “No! That won’t happen! We won’t let it! Don’t stress, Clarke, it won’t get to that point. We’re gonna teach you control first, and how to flirt second. I’ve got priorities and you’re on the top of that list.”

Clarke relaxed minimally, starting to move again. As she moved the now-cooked rice to the strainer in her porcelain sink, she spoke again. “Is this going to be impossible, Bellamy?”

Bellamy took his time in answering. “I don’t think so,” he finally said after a long pause. “If you learn control, which I’m beyond sure you can, then you’ll be able to live a normal, if highly sexually active, life. You’ll probably not be able to be exclusive with anyone until we get the demon out, unless they’re supernatural, as well, because you’d be draining only from that person, and it could harm them long-term. Probably with one feeding a week, for a month, is as much as the average human could endure, before they started feeling major fatigue and other… complications.”

“Complications?”

“Well. If it’s a guy, they probably won’t be able to get it up.”

“Oh my God. That’s too much. Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

Clarke shook her head. “Okay, so I get to live out my dream of being a heartbreaker. What else?”

He stared at her for a minute. “Try not to be too much of a heartbreaker in school. Save it for parties. If you’re really starved – grab me or Raven and just drag us into a closet.”

She smiled a little. “Really living up to that bad girl stereotype, huh?”

“Well, I’m sure your delinquency will be excused – have you ever actually done anything wrong in school before?”

“Once I freed the mice that our teacher wanted to feed to our class snake. I’m pretty sure Ms. Mueller still hasn’t forgiven me.”

He snorted. “O had Ms. Mueller a few years back. You did that in seventh grade?”

Clarke shrugged. “Snakes can live off of things that aren’t living when we feed them. Or crickets. Either works. The mice were just to fuel her sadistic tendencies.”  
“Is that how you justified it to her?”

“I stick to my story. Also, I may have stuck some mouse shit in her desk.”

Bellamy let out a startled laugh. “Now that’s the true asshole I’ve come to know you as.”

 

\--

 

Clarke stared at the steaming bowl in front of her. “I can’t believe you cooked actual food with the bullshit that is this kitchen,” she finally said. “I thought that this was all random crap Mom put in salad.”

Bellamy shuddered. “You couldn’t pay me to put miso into salad. Do you have any idea what that crap tastes like raw? You’d be totally devoid of all liquid for days.” He paused, and noted that she had made no move to put the spoon in her mouth. “Clarke, don’t be completely lame and try something new for once. You’ll like it. Your mom even had the right kind of spoons for this stuff, you can’t just let it go to waste.”

She shifted her unblinking blue eyes to stare at him. “If I die, I’m blaming you.”

He doesn’t blush, no really he doesn’t, and instead drops her gaze and looks resolutely down at his own bowl. “Just eat your soup, princess.” He takes a spoonful and drinks it, inordinately pleased with himself for managing to make this without messing it up and making it too salty.

Clarke stared at her bowl, obviously suspicious, but eventually shrugged and took a spoonful of the soup. She made a surprised noise when it hit her tongue: she didn’t expect the flavors to be so strong in a soup, and found herself pleasantly surprised. “Bellamy, this is great. Where the hell did you learn to cook this shit?”

“Part time job at that sushi place in town. Being a slayer doesn’t exactly pay well.”

“I’ve gotta bring my mother there. She might actually enjoy eating for once,” Clarke said, bending further over her bowl. “But I’m definitely not sharing what you made tonight.” She paused, and her eyes darkened. “Or maybe I just shouldn’t share you.”

Bellamy flushed. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do,” she said, pushing aside her finished bowl and creeping towards him.

He stared at her, biting his lip, and watched her gaze dart to his mouth. He finally sighed, and stretched out his hands to her. “Come here. I’ve gotta teach you some control before I let you loose on the general population.”

Her eyes lit up, and she practically leapt into his arms. Her hands darted around his body, like she didn’t know where to put them, and her grin only grew. She leaned in, pressing close to Bellamy, and he swallowed. This was maybe-definitely going to be hell for his libido, but he knew he had to just work through it. For Clarke’s sake. Definitely not for the sake of his dick.

Ha, totally not for his dick.


	7. the one in which the author apologizes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a/n

heeeey guys.  
so after rewatching seasons one and two of the 100, I decided that Clarke being an unwitting virgin totally messes with her characterization. I'm going to rewrite this story, but Clarke back in charge of her own sexuality (but not her newfound libido (; ), and put out a new chapter within the week. 

I just feel like it'll be a much better story if she can really be herself, you know? And this'll change her interactions with Bellamy and make it a lot less dub-con-y.

Thank y'all for your patience!!

**Author's Note:**

> * This literally means warrior's spear in Trigedasleng and I couldn't resist using the pun for Java and a coffee shop.


End file.
